Coming down, I was then going up, north, eating a cheese sandwich washed down with masala tea at Thivim station, a sleepy halt in Goa state where wild dogs lazed, somewhat enlivened that day by all the Indians heading home from their 3-day Banana Festival (I kid you not) break on the sand.
"No sleeper tickets," the railway station guy happily told me. "Only seat."
So seat it was among the lower castes in a not too full carriage at the very front of the train. Fourteen hours later at 06.10 and 48 seconds I wandered out into the warm Bombay dawn, birds screeching a fanfare from the trees.
It took me another 3 hours to find the hotel which wasn't a hotel but an apartment with a grumpy 40 year old houseboy watching cricket on TV who wouldn't give me a room key. I was too tired to argue, locked the bedroom door from the inside, showered and slept until afternoon. The communal pool and city could wait.
"No sleeper tickets," the railway station guy happily told me. "Only seat."
So seat it was among the lower castes in a not too full carriage at the very front of the train. Fourteen hours later at 06.10 and 48 seconds I wandered out into the warm Bombay dawn, birds screeching a fanfare from the trees.
It took me another 3 hours to find the hotel which wasn't a hotel but an apartment with a grumpy 40 year old houseboy watching cricket on TV who wouldn't give me a room key. I was too tired to argue, locked the bedroom door from the inside, showered and slept until afternoon. The communal pool and city could wait.